


Dream A Little Dream Of Me (And My Doppelgangers)

by blackgoliath



Category: Eureka
Genre: M/M, basically some hate makeouts, zoe shows up at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgoliath/pseuds/blackgoliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post-noche de suenos, referencing the ending (sort of) of primal; after the shared-dreaming experience, nathan comes to jack about one shared dream that jack would much rather forget</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream A Little Dream Of Me (And My Doppelgangers)

”So, Sheriff.” Jack looked up from his desk and was met with the holy unwelcome sight of Nathan Stark’s smug, bearded face. “I think there’s something we need to discuss.”

“Unless Eureka is on fire, I don’t think there is,” Jack said cheerfully. He gave Stark a bright smile. “Is Eureka on fire?”

Stark sighed. “No.”

“Well then, there you go.”

Stark, apparently undeterred, moved around the side of Jack’s desk. If Jo had been there (and not away for the weekend at some gun convention) Jack would’ve told her to escort Stark off the premises. Unfortunately, Jo wasn’t there, and Jack was on his own.

“Remember when everybody was sharing dreams last week?” Stark asked conversationally, leaning against Jack’s desk. Jack automatically tensed.

“Yeah? We already figured out it was your fault, and unless you’ve come to apologize, I’d rather not relive that particular experience.”

“Do you remember a certain dream,” Stark went on, pretending he hadn’t heard Jack, “involving you and me, quite a few of me, actually—”

“Okay, okay, you can stop right there!” Jack pushed himself to his feet, jaw working as he struggled to come up with an excuse. “I know what you’re thinking, but that was _not_ me—”

“You’re the only other person who had the dream, Carter,” Stark interrupted. “Believe me, I asked.”

Jack’s face turned an interesting shade of purple, and it took a few tries for him to get the words out.

“You did WHAT?!”

“Don’t pop a blood vessel, I didn’t tell anybody what happened.”

Jack continued spluttering, somewhere halfway between rage and absolute mortification. He’d had the dream Stark was referencing - a dream that hearkened back to when some of Taggart’s nanomajiggers had gotten out and made a bunch of Stark-clones to try and take over the world, except in his dream when the Starks had pulled him away from Allison, things had gotten a little…raunchy - the same night as his walking-naked-through-town dream, and when nobody had mentioned the former he’d hoped it had stayed in his head. Apparently he’d been wrong.

“I was under a lot of stress, and, and, you know, I got a toxic waste shower that day, you were there! So my brain was probably short-circuiting or something—”

“It’s okay Sheriff. I understand.” Stark smirked and rolled his shoulders, succeeding in drawing Jack’s eyes to his chest, his smirk widening when Jack huffed and irritably looked away. “I’m a very attractive man. I can’t say I wouldn’t be having dreams like that if I was in your shoes.”

“Whoa, whoa! No! I am _not_ attracted to you—!”

Stark moved fast for a man of his size; before Jack could finish his righteously indignant sentence Stark had taken a step forward and leaned in until their mouths were only a few inches apart, and Jack, though his head told him to back away fast before he fell for Stark’s trap, felt his breath catch and his lips part ever so slightly in anticipation. And then Stark moved away, his triumphant grin absolutely infuriating as the realization hit that Jack had done exactly what Stark had wanted.

“Relax, Sheriff, I won’t tell anyone,” Stark was saying, his smugness growing by the second. “Your secret’s safe with—” His last word was cut off as Jack, frustrated, humiliated, and in the perfect position to do something pretty stupid, grabbed him by the face and brought their lips crashing together. Stark, caught off guard, made a strangled noise of surprise. Jack pulled back a second later and noted the shocked expression on Stark’s face with a dark satisfaction.

“Just as I suspected,” Jack said, pleased with himself for finally getting the upper hand. “You _suck_ at kissing.”

“Excuse you, I am a great kisser,” Stark insisted automatically, and Jack laughed, knowing that he really had won this round, and he kept laughing until Stark moved back in and caught Jack’s mouth with his. Stark pushed Jack roughly up against the desk until Jack was forced to hop up on it, never breaking the kiss as Stark put his hands on Jack’s thighs and pushed them apart so he could move between them. Jack had one hand in Stark’s hair (he was going to be washing gel from between his fingers for days) and the other on Stark’s back, pulling him closer until they were flush up against each other. The kiss quickly became a fight for dominance, each trying to outdo the other, Jack having the upper hand until Stark nipped at his lip and he let out a quiet moan. He could feel Stark tugging at his shirt until it came untucked from his pants, and then Stark pushed him back further until he was on his back on the desk, papers, pens and other objects falling off onto the floor as they grabbed at each other, Jack pulling Stark’s shirt up, Stark ripping open the first few buttons of Jack’s uniform (to which Jack gave a small cry of protest, though it was muffled by Stark’s mouth), Jack’s legs wrapping around Stark’s butt to hold him there as Stark moved his lips to Jack’s jaw, kissing and biting and sucking along the jawline, his beard scratching Jack’s skin while he fought hard to keep from making any more sounds; he wasn’t going to give Stark the satisfaction. 

Stark’s fingers had found Jack’s belt buckle and Jack was clawing at the warm skin of Stark’s muscled back beneath his button-up shirt when the door to the sheriff’s office opened with a loud bang. Jack immediately shoved Stark away and, in his haste to scramble up off the desk, instead rolled off the side and hit the ground hard, so that when Zoe actually came into the room Stark was casually tucking his shirt back in while her dad was rolling on the floor and groaning in pain.

“Dad!” Zoe quickly came to his aid, running across the office and kneeling down beside him. She gave Stark a sharp glare. “What did you do to him?”

Stark held up his hands, palms out. “Nothing! I came in to ask him about something and found him like this. I think he was trying to go back to his roots.”

“Ha ha,” Jack said through gritted teeth. He pushed himself up off the floor and rubbed his elbow, which had taken a lot of the impact and was now the epicenter for the pain shooting up and down his arm. “I’m fine, Zoe, I just…fell.”

“You fell.” Zoe’s annoyed expression of disbelief was a mirror image of the look her mother used to give him. “Are you really sure that’s the story you want to stick to?”

“Yes!” 

She stared at him for a moment before scowling and slapping him on the arm. 

“Hey! What was that for?”

“For making me worry,” she huffed. Stark snorted behind them and she whirled on him. “And don’t think I forgot about you, either!” 

“Alright, enough, he didn’t do anything. _This_ time.” Jack glanced at Stark, found himself unable to maintain eye contact, and looked away again. “Why don’t we talk about, uh, whatever you wanted to talk about later.”

“Sure.” Stark dropped his hands and turned to leave. When he reached the door he glanced back and winked at Jack; and then he was gone.

Zoe looked up at her father, brows knitted. “What was that?”

“Uh.” Jack coughed and pulled himself together, patting Zoe on the back. “Believe me,” he answered, going with a slightly hysterical laugh, “You don’t wanna know.”


End file.
